This little light of mine
by Adara's Rose
Summary: Let us re-weave the loom of fate, and explore a road not taken. A very young Loki finds himself suddenly questioning everything he thought was true. Add a 'helpful' fertility goddess and his life will never be the same. But perhaps, it will give him time to figure out how to tell Thor that he's pregnant.
1. Chapter 1

It is known that the norns weave the web of fate. This has always been, and it will be so for till end of days.

But sometimes the norns are displeased by what they have woven, and will take the heavy scissors they use to cut men's lives and cut the weave itself. Then, from the remains, they will reweave it anew, making something different. Sometimes, just to see what will happen.

They might even decide they liked the original better, and undo the weave once more.

Let us explore one of the re-weaves, as impassive as the Norns.

 _The king is in his counting house, the queen is in her garden._

And the princes of Asgard?

Well… that's where it gets complicated.

Let us tell the story as it is woven, up until the moment heavy scissors cut the weave. Then, we shall explore a re-weave… one that, in the end, did not come to pass. For we all already know what came to pass.

But for now - _The queen is in the garden, eating bread and honey._

And one of her sons has something he needs to say...

* * *

"Mother." there was something peculiar in the voice, a note she had never heard before, and Frigga put down her plate and looked up.

"Loki, dear" she smiled at her youngest, who had his trademark smirk firmly in place but the eyes were everything but smiling. Knowing him as well as she did, she could see the apprehension well hidden in his gaze.

"I need to talk to you." A quick glance to the maids told the rest; in private, mother, please.

"Let us walk" Frigga decided swiftly as she stood up, adjusting her shawl. Side by side, they disappeared down the nearest path, not heading anywhere in particular but away from curious ears.

As they walked, Frigga studied her son. He was so much like her, even though he had none of her blood. He had her moods, her cunning, her thoughtful, inquisitive nature. He was prone to secrets, quick to anger, and always had some mischief brewing. Just like her, when she was young.

But now he couldn't meet her eyes, fidgeting under her gaze as if he was afraid of how he'd be received. He wore a tunic that was too large for him, she noted; one of Thor's, if the embroidery along the edges were any indication. She had noticed him wearing them lately, almost disappearing in the too large shirts. As if he was hiding.

Eventually they came to stop by a little fountain that sent fresh water cascading into a little rock pool. It was one of Loki's favourite places in her gardens; when he was little, she would often find him splashing in it.

"Please, child, tell me what troubles you." Frigga said gently, turning the full weight of her mother's worry on her son.

At that moment, he looked impossibly young as his lips started to tremble.

"I don't know how" he said finally, "you mustn't think I am lying."

And that was a valid concern, Frigga knew. Silver-tongue, liesmith, honey-trap. All of it was true, what they whispered about her youngest. But she had always been able to tell when he was untruthful, and she could tell now. At least she liked to think so.

"I will not" she promised, giving him an encouraging smile. He looked down at the little rock pool.

"I used to splash in this pond" he said, disturbing the serene surface with the toe of his boot, "I told Thor it was mine, and he mustn't have it, not the gardens. He could have the rest of Asgard."

Frigga remembered. How her eldest had scowled and pouted and called for his mother.

"Aye. and that he may have everything but that which was yours, unless you gave it to him."

Loki laughed, but there was no joy in it. He took a step back from the waters.

"He made me kiss him to seal my word." He said, shaking his head slowly.

"You were children" Frigga smiled, fond. They had been so sweet.

"And now we are children no more."  
"You will always be children to me."

Loki glanced at her, green eyes apprehensive.

"We… have always done that." he confessed, shyly. "A kiss to seal a vow."

Frigga nodded slowly, not understanding his line of thought.

"You are very close" she agreed.

Loki's hands moved like restless birds, a gesture she knew as him being lost for words. It was a gesture she saw less and less, these days.

They stood in silence, and she watched the flowers that she loved sway gently back and forth in the soft breeze. She wondered what he was thinking. There was a time when she had been able to tell just from the stiffness of his shoulders.

She could hear him draw a shuddering breath, and turned to him again. Waiting. Wondering if he was finally ready to tell her what was troubling him.

"Thor and I… we…" and once more his hands fluttered. But this time, she did not come to his rescue. Merely waited. "We have made vows." he admitted, finally.

She frowned, not quite understanding what he was attempting to tell her.

Loki's fluttering hands stilled, clenched.

"And we have sealed them, like when we were children. And I… I have given him what was mine."

Frigga stared at him, horrified understanding slowly dawning.  
"What did you give him, Loki?" She asked, her voice low and emotionless. She did not want to hear the answer.

But he gave it anyway.

"Myself."

* * *

Let us leave them there, momentarily, and speak of fate. For fate is a fickle thing, up until the moment it is woven into the grand design. The thread will shift and twist, as slippery as sand.

For instance, a young prince can flee Asgard, alone and lost, and wander further than he has ever dared. He can find himself in cold lands, the lands of the Ice Giants, and seek refuge in the home of a witch-woman on the edge of a small village.

Angrboda, for so is her name, will take him in - and take the unborn from his body and place a curse in its stead. For such is her magic; foul and dark, it gives nothing without taking of equal or greater measure. The young prince knows not the nature of the curse, but accepts it, knowing it lies only in his womb and not on the rest of him.

He will never know the nature of Angrboda's curse, but we know that it is this: each soul that springs from his womb shall be monstrous, and as beasts shall ye know them. They shall be damned for daring to have sprung from cursed flesh, and eternally will they suffer for their existence.

Neither does he know, when he at last returns to Asgard, that that which he leaves behind lives. It is a half life, a cursed life, but life nonetheless. A life in shadows, half here and half… elsewhere.

He does not know that the child will grow up to become the Queen of the Dead. Not yet. He will learn, in time. _Ashes, ashes, we all fall down._

And yet, we are not quite at the moment where the weave changes, where the scissors cut, where fate is rewritten. First, a queen must speak words she never thought she had it in her heart to utter.

* * *

The word ripped through the tranquility like a bolt of lightning, even though it was barely whispered. It ruined everything, Frigga felt as the earth disappeared beneath her feet. Suddenly, so many things made sense. She remembered, and she understood. The glances. The secretive smiles. The eldest son's devotion to the youngest. The whispers. Her eyes strayed of their own volition to the oversized shirt, hiding her youngest son's body from her searching gaze.

It was impossible, it must be. And yet, was it not she who had comforted Loki during his first monthly bleeding, when he cried his confusion into her shoulder?

"Mother" he begged, "say something."

But Frigga stared at his abdomen as if she was staring into the depths of Muspelheim and did not speak. Se could not speak, for what words were there?  
"Please" Loki's eyes were wide with fear. "I know not what to do. I haven't told anyone, not even Thor-"

Frigga's hand was in the air before she sensed it moving, striking his cheek with all the fury of a devastated mother.

And then she uttered words that came from somewhere deep inside her, words she hadn't known she was able of speaking. Words she regretted the moment she said them, but by then it was too late. Cruel, horrible words she didn't mean and would never be able to recant.

"Do not dare to speak his name, y _ou filthy jotun whore._ _"_

* * *

 _And all Asgard's horses and all Asgard's men_

 _Cannot put what was broken, together again._


	2. Chapter 2

Loki spent an anxious night on a pile of soft furs that one of Freya's blonde handmaidens gathered for him, but he didn't really sleep. His cheek had long since stopped hurting from Frigga's hand, but his mind was reeling. His mother - who wasn't his mother - had hit him and called him the foulest words he'd ever heard.

And where did this revelation leave him and Thor? He turned over listlessly, pulling the soft blanket tighter around his shoulders. He didn't know where he stood with Thor now. Before, it had been painful but easy. He had only dared to love the thunderer in the dark, under the covers, where Thor was soft and warm and gentle and _his_. Where there were kisses and touches and awed whispers of "you are so beautiful" whispered into his skin.

The moment Thor found out about the child he would want to do the honorable thing. He'd marry Loki within the day if no one stopped him. Loki wasn't sure he wanted that. They had never spoken of affection beyond that of devoted brothers. He couldn't bear it if that was all he ever had from his husband, when he wanted so much more.

Perhaps it was better if he got rid of the baby in Vanaheim. Surely Freya would know of a safe way to arrange it, or know someone who did. And then he'd return to Asgard and confront Odin about his lies. Without his child.

Loki turned over again, eyes burning from lack of sleep as he stared into the gloom of Sessrúmnir and tried to make an impossible choice. What was he going to do?

* * *

A hand shaking his shoulder woke Loki abruptly from uneasy dreams. He had been running after someone who was always one step ahead, someone who kept moving further away even though he ran as fast as he could. He didn't need to see the person to know who it was. Thor.

"Quick" a woman with blond hair whispered, "my lady says you must leave immediately, her sejdr cannot distract the watcher birds for too long."

Loki stumbled from his resting pace reluctantly, but felt slightly better went the nausea that had haunted him for months did not make an appearance.

Instead, he accepted the hooded cloak she offered him and followed her out of the hall, down a short path to where the river that ran through Asgard split into two sections.

Freya stood on the river bank, her arms raised and head tilted back. She wore a plain green dress and the Brisingamen shining with power around her neck. Behind her, barely touching the water's surface, lay a ship.

It was a ship unlike anything Loki had ever seen in his life; it was long and narrow and seemed built but wood that was so thin it was see-through. It had high sails of a fabric that sparkled like moonbeams on water, and the keel laid more out of the water than in it.

When Freya spotted Loki, she nodded towards the ship but did not speak. It seemed that whatever spell she was casting it was not finished, and knowing the risks of interrupting sejdr Loki chose to silently step onboard.

The thin wood was surprisingly sturdy beneath his feet, and there was a small tent of furs raised on one end. Six times two oars already lowered into the water, but Loki could see no rowers. He sat down on the smooth wood in the bow and waited quietly for Freya to finish casting her spell. The warmth of the early morning sun and the soft murmurs of the river soon put him to sleep.

* * *

 _Thor's mouth was like fire, scorching and ravenous on his cock and Loki keened with want, fingers clutching at broad shoulders._

 _"Brother" he gasped, "brother!"_

 _There was a muffled groan as Thor took him in deeper, two blunt fingers pressing between Loki's legs, slipping into his dripping cunt. He groaned, back arching as he spread his legs further, accommodating the larger youth seemingly intent on pleasing him. Thor's long fingers pushed in deep, twisting and stroking the pulsing walls of his sex until Loki didn't know what felt better as he fucked up into Thor's mouth, down onto his fingers. Thor's short beard rubbed deliciously against the inside of his thighs, just rough enough to keep him grounded as the thunderer sent him spiralling higher and higher in ecstasy._

 _Thor let Loki's cock slip from his mouth with an obscene pop and looked up at him with burning eyes._

 _"By the tree" the blond panted, "I cannot get enough of you."_

 _"Thor" Loki groaned in reply as Thor twisted his fingers just so. "Fuck me, for pity's sake."_

 _"Nay, it is not safe for the baby." Loki didn't have time to wonder who had told Thor his secret, for his mind stopped working as Thor once more took him into his mouth as he added a third finger to the digits seemingly intent on driving Loki mad._

* * *

When Loki woke, it was to uncomfortably sticky breeches and Freya's amused smile. It made him feel embarrassed and filthy, not sure if he wanted a bath or to run back to Asgard, and hide in Thor's arms. Except he wasn't sure that Thor would allow the embrace once he knew.

"There you are" she said, "I'm sorry about this morning; Heimdall might be convinced to keep secrets, but Hugin and Munin are not. Did you sleep well?"

Loki nodded slowly, stretching his stiff limbs. "Yes, thank you."

"Good. Here, eat some breakfast, you must be famished." She offered him dried meat and more of the bread they'd eaten the previous day, and Loki found himself forgetting his embarrassment in favour of ravenous hunger.

After he had finished, Freya offered him clean clothes and a bucket of water to wash off with. Then she kindly looked in another direction as he changed. The shirt was a bit snug over his rounded abdomen, but not enough to be uncomfortable. It did, however, make it clear how large he was. Loki stroked the taut skin, thinking of the child growing inside. The child he had made with the one he loved most in the world. Suddenly, he felt Thor's absence most keenly.

"Do you know how far along you are?" Freya's voice cut into his solemn thoughts, nearly making him jump out of his skin.

He shook his head.

"A few months."

"When was the last time you coupled with Thor?"

Loki blushed at the bluntness of her question.

"A few days."

Freya made a thoughtful face.

"So that's no help." she said, more to herself than him. "Did he say anything about.." She didn't finish the sentence but looked at his stomach.

"He… he said he thought I was beautiful. And that now there is more of me to love." It felt silly to repeat the words that had made him so happy then.

"He is a good man, your Thor." Freya smiled at him.

Loki shook his head. "he's not my Thor."

"Does he know that?"

Loki looked away, his eyes wandering over the ship. That's when he noticed something. "who's rowing?"

Freya seemed amused by the question but let him change the subject.

"Skidbladnir needs no rowers. She is a magic ship. Frey lent her to me."

"Oh. I see. Will it be long till we reach Vanaheim?"

"No. I expect us to be there for the evening meal."

* * *

Back in Asgard, Thor was staring blearily at the ceiling of his bedroom. In the bright sunlight of the morning, the anxiety that had gripped him when he realised Loki was missing eating him alive.

He wondered how long Loki had been gone; he had not realised until his brother failed to show for his evening meal, but could not be found in neither his rooms or the library. Odin, as worried as his son, had called for a realm-wide search that was not to be stopped until his youngest had been found.

Thor had of course been amongst the seekers. But after several hours of fruitless hunting, his mother had ordered him to bed. She had told him that he was of no use to the seekers when he was exhausted and had barely any control over his sejdr.

He had wanted to keep searching for his brother, but knew better than to argue with her. So he had obeyed, even if highly reluctant, and gone to his rooms. But sleep had been impossible; every time he closed his eyes he saw Loki, in more danger than the last time. What could possibly have happened to him? Had he been abducted? Injured? Was someone hurting him as Thor lay sleepless in his grand bed, the bed that he was so used to share with Loki?

Or perhaps it was something he had done. Thor knew full well that he wasn't the most gentle of men; he had been called brutish, and even though it had been said with malicious intent there was truth in it. But Loki liked him how he was, didn't he? He had said so at least. But then again, they had been in bed at the time, the younger prince soft and warm in Thor's arms. It had been one of those mornings when Loki allowed his talk of the future they would have. How happy they'd be. Of how beautiful Loki would be in his wedding robes the day they were handfasted.

Thor rose, his limbs aching from exhaustion, and looked mournfully at the untouched pillow that laid next to his.

"Where are you?" he whispered into the stillness of the room, "what has happened to you, my dearest?"

 _Why have you fled from me,_ his heart whispered.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set when Skidbladnir sailed into the small harbour that Freya said belonged exclusively to the king of Vanaheim.

Loki was rather unsteady on his feet as he stepped onto the wooden dock, but Freya's hand on his arm soon calmed his queasy stomach. She led him up a narrow gravel path, through a copse of tall trees and then he saw the houses.

They were nothing like what he knew from Asgard; they seemed to have sprouted from the ground, weaving around trees that spread their wide branches to form roofs of the little houses. Instead of doors, finely woven quilts hung over the entrances. Each house seemed to belong to a group of six or seven, circling a communal fire.

"Welcome to Vanaheim" Freya smiled as she escorted him through what Loki assumed to be a small village, past the tree-houses and up towards where he could see a grove of trees upon a hill.

The people of Vanaheim, the few that Loki saw at least, looked at them with thinly veiled criousty. And what a people the were! Some were as tall as giants. A few vanir, each no higher than Loki's knees, were having a gathering on a large flat rock. As he and Freya passed, the little winged beings stopped their bickering over a cluster of bright red berries to wave at Freya, who happily waved back.

"Sprites" she told Loki, "beings of the air."

As they neared the hill, Loki saw that what he had assumed to be a large grove of trees was in fact a building, similar in its structure to the others but much larger. It was also the first house he had seen to have an actual door, made of finely carved wood. In front of it stood two vanir, both as tall as the door itself and with skin so darkly green they at first appeared black. They each held a massive spear, made out of similar wood to the door.

"Lady Freya" said the left guard as they uncrossed their spears and stepped aside, allowing Freya to open the doors.

And then, she unceremoniously ushered Loki into the King's hall.


	3. Chapter 3

The light in the King's hall was bright, almost uncomfortably so, as it filtered through the green leaves and branches that composed the ceiling. It illuminated a tall, wide room that really had no business inside a building like that - truly advanced sejdr must be at work in order for it to fit.

At the far end of the hall, stood two thrones that, like the hall, seemed to have grown from the earth. Branches and tendrils had twisted themselves into two elegant chairs, high-backed and with armrests so thin and delicate they looked as if they would break if you rested your arms on them for too long.

In the taller of the chairs sat a man that was not, a man that seemed as ephemeral as spring. If you imagine everything good about summer and severe about winter wrapped up together and clothed in an elegant robe, crowned by massive antlers, you would still have no idea.

At seeing Freya and Loki approaching him over a floor that was mostly composed of tightly packed dirt, the man with the massive antlers stood and smiled at them in a way that made you think of ice shattering as the sun shone on it.

"Freya" he said in a voice that boomed like distant thunder. Freya beamed and ran to him like a little girl to her father, throwing her arms around the tall man with a little whoop of "Uncle 'Riki!"

Loki stopped a few feet away from the happy scene, not sure what to do. He had never actually met monarchs of any really other than Asgard, but he had practiced courtly manners to great extent… if Freya would just stop hugging what was obviously the king (the crown gave him away), he'd be able to make a good impression.

Eventually, the King seemed content to let go of Freya, and looked instead at Loki. His gaze was a lot like the Allfather's, giving the impression of seeing everything and judging you for it. But his judgement was in your favour, as if he really thought you were a thoroughly decent person and was baffled that you hadn't realised it yourself.

"I am King Eirikki of Vanaheim" the King eventually introduced himself, holding out a gnarled hand for Loki to shake.

Loki took it, finding the fingers spindly thin. He bent down and kissed the air a mere inch above it.

"Loki of…" Loki heitated, bit his lip briefly. "I am Loki. And I am honoured."

King Eirikki shook his head so a few small leaves disengaged themselves from his hair and danced away on an unseen breeze.

"Rot" he said as he pulled his hand back, "you are among friends, child. None of that formal nonsense. My name is Eirikki. But come, come, you must be tired and hungry. A room has been prepared for you. Freya, will you be staying at my hall tonight?"

"Yes, Uncle. And tomorrow, I must go back to Asgard. My time there is not yet at an end."

"You aunt will be pleased." Was Eirikki's verdict as he moved further into the hall, through a door that Loki had not seen before. "Now come. Dinner."

* * *

Far away, in Asgard, another King was in his Hall. But this was not a joyous night, but one fraught with fears and concerns. Odin sat upon his throne, the place where his sejdr was at its strongest and searched with increasing fervor for his missing child.

But it seemed that no matter how Odin intently gazed, he could not see his son in any of the worlds that he could view. That meant only one thing; Loki was in another realm, one that was hidden from his farsight according to the laws of old. His heart clenched at the realization that this meant that Loki was in grave danger - whether, in the land of the dead, the land of the Vanir, or the land of the ice giants, he could not tell.

For the first time in many centuries, Odin found himself praying.

* * *

"So you are Loki," said the matronly woman with dark hair piled high on her head. She gave Loki a very unimpressed look, then turned to pull a loaf of bread from the oven.

"Yes, ma'am" Loki replied, wondering why this woman was important enough for Freya to have hissed at him to "make a good impression" before leaving him to enter the kitchens alone.

In the massive room, full of pots and pans and the heat of the hearth, Loki felt very small and lonely and fiercely missed home.

"So polite" she tsked, then handed him a roll of fresh bread and a mug of tea. "Sit. Eat. Then we will talk." her tone brokered no argument and he obeyed, sinking down onto the long bench by the wall. It felt good to get off his feet, and his sore back was grateful for the respite.

The bread roll turned out to be carefully spiced, and full of dried fruits. It was delicious, and since he was always hungry he devoured it almost instantly. The matronly woman smiled indulgently and gave him another one, this time smothered in fresh butter.

"Nice to see a young man with a healthy appetite," she said as she undid her apron strings and sat down on a small footstool next to the table. Her gaze was the same sharp one as King Eirikki, and Loki wondered about the relation.

"I am Vigdis," the woman said as if she had read his thoughts, "Eirikki is my husband and Freya is my niece. Njord is my brother."

Loki froze, his mug of tea halfway to his mouth. This was the queen of Vanaheim? She looked like the cook back home in Asgard. She even had the same no-nonsense airs.

Vigdis smirked at him.

"Not what you expected, hm." It wasn't a question, but Loki blushed and tried to answer.

"N-no, ma'am."

"I get that a lot," she said dryly, looking at the empty plate in front of him. "I'll get you another roll." She got to her feet. "And some more tea, for both of us. Then, we'll talk."

* * *

Frigga sat alone in her chambers, exhausted from the maelstrom within. For two days they had now searched, with increasing desperation, for Loki. But there were precious few places left in Asgard to search now, and not a trace of the boy had been found.

Being who she was, Frigga had a piece of fine fabric spread over her lap, and her needles waited for her hands. But she sat still, hands useless, eyes bright with tears she would not let fall. Her boy, alone out there in a cruel, uncaring world. And it was her fault that he had fled. Her hand still stung from the impact to his cheek, aching with shame. She had not known she had such cruelty within her until her hand had already been raised. A wrath she had never known before had made her cruel, and she had directed that cruelty to someone who did not, and never had, deserved it.

Loki had not asked to be born, after all. He had not asked Odin to betray his marriage vows for a pair of pretty green eyes, to forget about her in the arms of a youth with blue skin. No, Loki had no fault in his creation. And yet, it was him she had punished. Had named him for what she had sworn he would never know he was - a jotun bastard. And now he was gone, and she knew not where. If anyone was kind to him. If anyone helped him with the child under his heart. She was his mother. And she had driven him away.

Frigga let the fabric slip to the floor where it lay unnoticed, tears spilling over without permission and slipping gently down her cheeks. Suddenly she felt so very alone.

* * *

After having finished two mugs of tea and a total of three delicious fruit rolls, Loki was comfortably full and sleepy, almost sluggish.

"Now dear," said Vigdis and gave him a very sharp look over her mug, "you will tell me everything about why you left Asgard and how you came to be here."

And there was something in her tone, or perhaps it was the warmth of the fire, or the way his stomach felt so full and heavy and his child slept peacefully under his heart. Loki licked his lips and began.

"We… you see, that's Thor and I…"

* * *

Freya was very pleased with her night; she'd beat uncle Eirikki soundly at Mills, had some excellent tea, and spent more time than strictly necessary cuddled up with her brother and his wife in a nice warm pile and listened to them making cooing noises at each other. They were her favorite pair of lovers, really. Although perhaps one day the princes of Asgard might be in the running for that title.

She sat down on the little footstool Vigdis had given her when she was a girl and started braiding her long, red hair. It was the only way to keep it from tangling as she slept.

But as she sat braiding, Freya started to feel that she had forgotten something important. She just couldn't figure out what it was.

It bothered her all through her braiding, and while she changed into her nightgown. It wasn't until she curled under the blankets and blew out her candle that it came to her and she sat up straight in horror.

 _The tea._

She hadn't warned Loki not to drink the tea.


	4. Chapter 4

It was late night, and Vigdis carefully closed the door to the room she had assigned to young Loki. He slept, peaceful, and the Man in the Moon was watching his dreams.

Vigdis turned, and waited. She did not have to wait long until a positively incensed redhead came storming towards her.

"Aunt Vigdis!" Freyja shrieked, and Vigdis hushed her.

"Come now, child, you mustn't wake the sleepers." Freyja looked like she wanted to argue, but let herself be ushered into a nearby room with thick walls.

"Now dear-" Vigdis began, but Freyja wasn't listening.

"Did you give him tea, aunt?" She demanded.

"Yes, dear. He had two mugs full." Freyja's high face colour turned stark white.

"What did you make him do?" she asked, gazing imploringly at the ever tranquil Queen of Vanaheim.

"Nothing, dear. He did tell me a curious story, though." She levelled her errant niece with a very sharp look.

"Now, dear, running about in your nightgown and causing a ruckus is one thing. But why did you not tell me that you were bringing us the lost son of King Laufey?"

* * *

It was early morning, Sol just barely stumbling his way over the horizon and yawning his way across the heavens. In the Grand Hall of Vanaheimr, only the servants were awake. But that peace was about to be thoroughly ruined, as the young prince of Asgard had just finished his morning business and turned to examine himself in the mirror.

The result of this examination was a hysterical, terrified scream that ripped through the tranquility of the morning and effectively ruined it.

Neither king Eirikki or his queen bothered putting on any more clothes than their sleepwear as they flew out of the royal bed and hurried out into the hallway, the scream turning into hysterical wails as they approached. They were met in the doorway by a very dishevelled, confused Freyja who still had her hair in braids, making her look like a child.

"What is going on?" She demanded, but Vigdis pushed past her into the guest room.

"Loki, dear?" She called, "do please stop screaming, you're upsetting the servants."

"Look at me!" He bawled back, "What is wrong with me?"

Freyja and Vigdis exchanged looks, but allowed Eirikki to be the first behind the curtain where the wails had been coming from. The king had to momentarily stop and untangle his horns from the flimsy fabric, but then he disappeared and they could hear him murmur soothingly to the very upset aesir. Eventually, the cries tapered off into a very heavy silence. Freyja tapped her foot with impatience, but Vigdis stood still and calm and simply waited.

After many more minutes, Eirikki pulled aside the curtain and they could see what had Loki so upset.

He was blue, a lovely shade that made Freyja think of dark winter skies. His face had elongated slightly to appear more elfin, and his ears had changed shape. He also stood a bit taller than he had the night before. His stomach was heavily extended and stretched around his child, in parts making the skin an almost translucent blue with the strain.

"Now I see why you are so upset" Freyja murmured, admiring the long legs bare under the robe Eirikki had swept around the boy when he seemed unable to do it herself.

Vigdis smiled.

"And now you are truly honest with us." She said, then turned to Freyja.

"Let's leave the poor thing to gather himself, while we fetch breakfast. Then we shall talk, and eat."

As the door closed behind them, Freyja heard Loki as plaintively,

"What has happened to me?"

* * *

Breakfast over, Loki was reasonably calm. Well, as calm as one could be after having had ones whole world ripped to shreds and turned over in the span of one morning.

"Thanks" he sighed, reluctantly accepting a mug of tea from Freyja. He stared at it it suspiciously.

"It's not the special kind" she promised him, glaring at her aunt who did not seem to notice.

"I am sorry, Loki dear" Vigdis said instead, "but I needed to make sure you did not spin me any lies. I did not expect the glamour to break."

"It was on it's last" Eirikki said as he helped himself to more porridge, "I saw it shredding last night."

"And you didn't say?" Vigdis raised an eyebrow. Eirikki shrugged, spooning jam into his bowl.

"Everything worked out, didn't it?" Well, no arguments there, really.

"So I am jotun" Loki whispered, looking down at his blue hands.

"You knew that already" Freyja reminded him gently, "now you just… can see it."

Loki's lip wobbled. What was Thor going to say? Would he still want him, want their child?

"There now dear" Vigdis patted his hand comfortingly, "it will be alright. Today, we shall see your jordemor and arrange for the birth. It is not long, now."

"My what?" Loki was confused. He had never heard of anyone having an earth-mother.

"Your jordemor. Gerdr will be happy to help you through the birth."

Loki blinked in bewilderment, but finally started drinking his tea. "Who is Gerdr?"

* * *

Gerdr Gymirsdattir turned out to be jotun. Her skin was a darker blue than Loki's, and she stood as tall as Eirikki with hair that gleamed golden as the sun. Next to her, her husband Freyr looked like a child. He barely reached her shoulder, but the way he looked at her was nothing short of adoration.

"Welcome" she said and offered tea and little cakes, spread with jam and topped with a dollop of cream. "Do help yourselves."

"Don't mind if I do" said Freyja, happily tucking in. "Gerdr makes the best hotcakes," she added at Loki's hesitance.

Gerdr looked at Loki's stomach.

"Vigdis has asked me to serve as jordemor at your birth" she said, "how far away is it?"

"Less than a fortnight" Vigdis replied calmly, "more than a week."

Loki paled. That soon? He turned anxious eyes at Vigdis, who seemed as undisturbed as always.

"Of course I will help" Gerdr said, misinterpreting his apprehension. "I would be honored. Do you know what you're having?"

Once more, it was Vigdis who spoke before Loki could.

"A girl child" she said, helping herself to a steaming mug of tea. Loki eyed it with suspicion, not wanting to try it. The last time he'd had special tea he'd poured his heart out to a woman he didn't know. He wasn't keen on doing it again.

"Have you no children?" Loki asked, wanting to change the subject from his own. Gerdr looked impossibly sad for a moment, but it was Freyr who answered.

"It… hasn't happened for us" he said quietly, taking his wife's hand. "Perhaps in time."

Gerdr looked down at where Freyr's golden hand covered her blue.

"I can't" she whispered, so much grief in her voice it made Loki want to cry. "I have learned to accept that."

But she hadn't, Loki realised as he looked at the couple. Not at all. The longing to be a mother shone out of Gerdr like a glowing candle within her breast.

"And the father?" Freyr asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.

"He is in Asgard" for once Loki was allowed to answer for himself, "he… doesn't know."

"And when will you tell him?" Gerdr asked, a frown marring her elegant features.

Loki looked away, unable to answer her.

* * *

(one week passes)

* * *

Loki sat on the edge of his bed and let Freyja brush his hair. It had been lazy days, full of resting, reading, and learning to play board games. Freyja had pouted for nigh on one hour the first time he beat her in Mills, and he still felt pleased about it.

Now he was tired, but content, his stomach heavy from delicious food straight from Vigdis' kitchen. Somewhere outside his window, sheep were bleating and a sweet tune was played on a flute.

"Jon is in town tonight" Freyja murmured, the strokes from the brush almost putting Loki to sleep.

"Who?" He asked in the same soft voice.

"Jon and his sheep. I can hear them. Don't listen unless you're lying down, they'll put you right to sleep."

"How about you?"

"I'm vanir. It takes a lot more than the bleating of sömnfår to put me out."

She put down the brush and started braiding. It was almost as soothing as the distant bleating or the strokes of the brush. But there was one thing niggling at the back of Loki's mind, keeping him awake.

"Freyja?" he asked, finally.

"Hmm?"

"Why can't Gerdr give Freyr children? She's jotun, isn't she?"

Freyja's hands stilled, momentarily. Then she started again, but her motions were slow and distracted.

"You are two-sexed" she began slowly, "like most jotun?"

Loki nodded, getting a tug at his hair for his trouble. Hold still.

"Gerdr is not" Freyja said quietly, sounding as sad as Gerdr had. "She was born one-sex, and not the one who carries."

It took a moment before Loki understood. Gerdr, with her long hair and pretty white dress and fine jewellry, had a male's body. She might be a she, but she couldn't have children. Not even with a fertility god.

They didn't speak any more, just sat in silence as Freyja finished with his hair. Then she kissed his temple, hugged him and told him good night. It felt good, like the affections of an older sister.

But once she had left, Loki couldn't sleep. He stared up at the ceiling, tracing the patterns of branches and leaves, and listened to the sounds of the Vanaheim night. If he listened very closely, he could hear Jon Blund play his flute very, very softly.

Carefully, he crept from his bed and over to the window, opening it to let in the sound.

The melody was soft, and quite unlike anything he had every heard. It whispered of pleasant dreams and soft blankets, of the moon wandering above and waking early. Loki's eyes felt impossibly heavy as he listened, and his head sunk down against the wall. Soon enough, he stood by the window, fast asleep.

He woke some time later, to an agony feeling like it was ripping him apart.

It took some time to realise what it was.

Birthing pains.

* * *

People introduced:

Gerdr Gymirsdattir - jotun wife of Freyr.

Jon - Jon Blund, swedish name for The Sandman. Said to play a flute as he herds his sheep through the cities, putting everyone who hears him instantly to sleep.

Sömnfår - literally, "sleep sheep". Jon's sheep.


	5. Chapter 5

Volstagg was beyond tired and into complete exhaustion. Every limb in his body ached and he really, really, really wanted to join Hogun and Fandral in sleep. But even though he lay snug between them, his favourite position, sleep was stubbornly eluding him. Hogun's fingers were tangled in his beard, and he turned his head to press a kiss to his knuckles. He was so beautiful in his stillness, his dark lover. Fandral grumbled something, as if he too wanted affection, but kept sleeping. Volstagg patted his rump affectionately and then started the lengthy process of extracting himself from the tangle of limbs that always made up their bed.

Something drove him to go look in on Thor.

* * *

The early morning was ripped apart by screams for the second time since the asgardian prince had arrived in Vanaheim. But this time the cries were of a different kind, less fear and more pain.

"Keep yelling" Gerdr said sternly, "and you won't have any breath left for the actual birth."

She was crouched between Loki's spread legs, examining him carefully. Loki wanted very, very badly to set her on fire with his sejdr, but was too darn exhausted already to attempt it. Besides, she was his _jordemor_ _,_ and there to help him birth the child that was currently ripping him apart. Or at least it felt like she did. Freyja, who was cradling him with her arms and legs like a mother with her suffering son, crooned soothing nonsense in his ear as her arms tightened around his shuddering body.

The fertility goddess was sitting leaning up against the wall, her legs and arms framing Loki's body, giving him strength with every fibre of her being. And he needed it; the labour had been going on for many hours, and each ripple of agony made him feel like he was dying.

"Thor" he sobbed desperately as another one hit, "where is Thor."

Gerdr and Freyja exchanged looks. On Loki's request, no one in vanaheim had let anyone from another realm know Loki was there. That included the father of his baby. So Thor was most likely in Asgard, worried sick about him and not knowing where he was.

Gerdr pressed strong hands to Loki's stomach, feeling the child inside.

"She is in the right position" she acknowledged, "at last. Good, it means she is almost ready."

"Ready?" Loki whimpered and wailed as another wave of agony washed over him.

"Aye. Freyja, give him strength." Freyja nodded once; this wasn't her first birth. She knew what to do.

Her sejdr slipped into Loki like a small, soft tendril of green light, soothing the distress and strengthening his resolve. It also found his child, giving silent encouragement and strength to the little one.

Loki sobbed, this time in relief, his hand clutching at Freyja's nightgown.

"I can't do this" he choked out.

"Yes, you can." she replied confidently. "She wants out, now. Let her."

Gerdr stood up, face calm but eyes stormy.

"It is time" was all she said.

* * *

In the early morning, Thor looked like he had gone three rounds with a giant and lost. His golden hair hung matted, his hands shook, his eyes were red-rimmed. But whether from crying or lack of sleep, Volstagg couldn't tell.

"Where is he?" The prince begged, hopeless. "We have searched both Asgard and Midgard. He is nowhere!"

Volstagg thought of the rumours having slipped around Asgard for the past days, falling silent as soon as being said but still there, aching in the silence.

He looked at Thor.

His friend, who was clearly tormented. Anguished, even. Desperate, terrified, and hopeless. There was no way of knowing if the rumours held any truth in them, but he felt that Thor was desperate enough to believe anything if it brought Loki home.

"Let us travel to Jotunheim" he said at last. "Loki might be hiding there."

Thor shook his head.

"Why would he hide in such a savage place" he protested, "no one would seek him there."

"And that is exactly why" Volstagg replied.

Thor mulled it over for several moments. Perhaps in the cold lands of the Jotun, he would find the one who had laid claim to everything he was and everything he had.

He nodded slowly.

"Jotunheim" he murmured, more to himself. "Let us seek my sweet love in Jotunheim."

If Volstagg had been surprised at the choice of words, he did not let on.

* * *

If Loki had thought he was in pain before, it was nothing to the agony he suffered now. He had long since stopped screaming, his voice to hoarse to make any noise. Gerdr was solemn as she ran her cool hands over his shuddering stomach, feeling the extended skin.

"Come now little one" she told the infant who seemed reluctant to be born now that they were all ready for her. "It is alright, you are wanted. Come now."

Another birthing pain swept over Loki, red-hot and ruthless like a fire. He sobbed, wanted to scream but could only managed a cracked whimper.

Freyja pressed a soothing kiss to his sweaty brow.

"Loki" Gerdr said tersely, "At the next pain, I need you to gather all your strength and push, like we practiced."

Loki closed his eyes briefly, gathering every reserve he had. They all waited.

When the pain hit, Loki bore down as hard as he could.

"Good!" Gerdr cried as Loki keened, "once more, and we'll have her head!"

* * *

"Jotunheim!" Frigga cried in alarm when she realised where the four men before her were heading. "You can't!"

"But Loki might be there," Thor replied, as stubborn as a mountain. He adjusted his pack, refusing to listen to his mother's pleas. Odin said nothing, looking thoughtfully at the Warriors Three.

"I expect you came up with this" he told them sternly. "You will keep him safe, and bring my children home."

"Odin!" Frigga cried, "what if-"

"All will be well" Odin replied sternly, "and Loki will come home. What happens after that, only the norns know. We will deal with it then."

Frigga looked like she wanted to argue, but eventually composed herself.

"Very well." she said cooly. Then she turned to Thor, and the coldness evaporated. "Find him" she begged, "please, tell him I-" she stopped herself, biting her lip.

"What, mother?" Thor asked, impatient to go. "What do I tell him."

"Tell him… tell him to come home."

"I will."

* * *

The child slipped from Loki's body like she'd had enough of it and wanted free. Gerdr cried out with relief as she saw it, catching the child in well-practiced arms.

Loki watched, exhausted, as Gerdr cleared his daughter's little mouth, then flipped her over and smacked her little bottom hard twice. It had the desired effect; the child started wailing, startled and upset.

"There we go" Gerdr said smugly as she leaned over Loki, "arms like we practiced and you'll get to hold her."

Loki curled his arms like he had been taught, and then a warm heavy lump was placed in them.

He stared down at the child in wonderment.

She was perfect, with her cute little nose and perfect little hands waving angrily about as she wailed. She looked as if she had been put in a bucket of paint, but only half. Her left side was a healthy, rosy pink, but the right side was a deep, vivid blue that made Loki think of winter nights.

"She'll pale as she grows" Gerdr said somewhere beside him, but he didn't notice. All he saw was his child, half aesir and half jotun and all perfection.

"Hello sweetheart" he told her, and it was as if his voice silenced her protests instantly. The wailing stopped, and instead she just fussed a little, stilling and calming in his arms. Freyja wrapped a thin shawl around them both, but Loki hardly paid her any mind.

He couldn't look away from the light in the bright green eyes of Thor's daughter.


End file.
